


Angel of Mercy

by Karieauthoress (ksrandomme), ksrandomme



Series: Angel [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-26
Updated: 2009-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/Karieauthoress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/ksrandomme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One should never judge a book by it's cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel of Mercy

  
He was built like a tank, but it didn’t stop him from stumbling into a wall as he slowly struggled to keep his feet under him. He had no destination, but the men following him didn’t know that. He continued to move, stumbling here, shuffling there, and always, always aiming towards downtown. If he could make it to a safe place, any alley outside of a police station, he could keep his life. His cover was shot, but that didn’t mean he was beaten. He was only beaten if he was dead.

Heaving himself off the wall, he aimed for the lone street lamp on a corner across from him. Standing in the circle of light a working girl was waiting for a John, her dark curly hair swaying in the breeze. Any port in the storm, even if she was a whore, she was a witness. He slowed down as he got closer and amended his first impression. Boy, definitely a working boy, but the original thought was still the same and he reached out to the shoulder of the boy, grasping weakly.

The boy, or man on an even closer look, turned with a start and managed to grab him before he fell. Unfortunately he was too heavy for the other man, who only just managed to catch his head and keep it from hitting the concrete. The younger man was holding him carefully, as if his head were a carton of fresh eggs and the rest of him was just as breakable. He looked up into cool blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, and they looked back at him with for someone in his profession was an amazing amount of compassion and concern. But the younger man's eyes didn't stay focused on him; instead they raised and began to dart around suspiciously at the various buildings surrounding them.

The last words he spoke for some time were beseeching as he caught the hooker’s eyes again, ““Help me… please…”

o-O-o

Angel was at a loss. He had been waiting for Peaches, at her corner, an hour after her shift and she hadn’t shown up. He had been about to slip back to his place when he heard shuffling behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. His first instinct was to run, but the wheezing pulled him up short and he turned to find a big man with arms outstretched, coming right into his personal space. Before he could get out a word of protest, the man went down!

Instinct took over and Angel tried to hold the man up, only managing to catch his head as the man twisted and fell back onto the sidewalk. The clatter of a trashcan in the alley across the street alerted Angel to bad things coming. Bad men with bad plans. He looked back down at the man whose icy hues locked onto his. “Help me… please…”

Angel knew the man had passed out immediately after that last, and he also knew that he was not about to have a chance of moving the great weight on his own. He wasn’t weak by any stretch, but he knew his limits. He cast about and found a dark alcove off to the side that he felt sure he could drag the dead weight, and proceeded to do just that.

When he was sure that they were as well hidden as he could make them, he searched the shadows across the street until he could make out shapes. One of the shapes came out into the light enough for Angel to recognize the clothes and colors of Tank’s men, and he ducked back into hiding. He fumbled in his coat pocket until he found his cell phone and dialed a number from memory. Waiting for someone on the other end to pick up, he reached out and unbuckled the belt on the big man, moving his clothing aside and adjusting himself to straddle the long legs.

 _*”Malone”*_ came the clipped voice over the line. Angel sighed in relief.

“Frankie? Hey man, I need some help here…” He didn’t realize he was trembling until he spoke into the phone, but then he didn’t have a lot of time to be scared.

 _*”Angel? Babe, what’s wrong? Where are you, I’ll come get you?”*_ Good old Frankie, Angel knew he could trust the big Irishman from South Philly. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to give him directions. 6th and Vine, under the working street light, need help fast. Tank’s men out searching. Frankie had to come, he just had to. _*“I’ll be there in five minutes, can you wait that long? Don’t stay if you think you’re gonna get hurt.”*_

Angel smiled grimly even though he knew Frankie couldn’t see him and repeated, “Hurry man, I’m really worried about this guy…” He hung up soon after and waited.

Five minutes felt like an eternity, but during that time the three shapes had left and Angel felt certain they had moved off to search out their prey elsewhere. When he saw the glow from a pair of headlights come up the road, he slipped out of the alley just long enough to assure himself that it was Frankie’s car, and then ducked back in to get the hurt guy back together.

Frankie parked the car near the mouth of the alley and came out to see if he could help. Angel reached out and hugged the big man first, part hello and part relief from the fear he had been in. “He’s down here Frankie. Jesus, this guy scared the hell out of me at first.”

Frankie followed where Angel led and they were soon working on picking the mystery man up and angling down towards the alley entrance again. Frankie talked as he moved, “I thought you weren’t working tonight, Angel.”

Angel hurriedly explained about the meet with Peaches and the fact she didn’t show as they finally reached the car. Frankie set the man down and reached to open the back door when he must have caught a really good look at their guy. He whistled in surprise. “Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

“What? What is it Frankie?” They stopped and lay the man on the sidewalk next to Frankie’s car.

“This guy… shit, I know him. Come on, into the car. I can’t take him to any of the usual places.” He shoved the man into the car, Angel helping as best he could. When Angel climbed in with the man and had shut the door, Frankie slid into the driver’s seat and they were soon rolling down the street. It was several blocks before Frankie spoke again.

“This guy’s a cop, kid. Undercover. He’s worked with me to get some of the kids off the streets around here. If he was into Tank’s shit, something must be going on. I can’t take him home with me, that will get him in trouble, could blow his cover. Taking him to a hotel is out of the question…”

“Goes without saying, Frank… this guy needs medical attention.” Angel glanced back over the mysterious cop and sighed. “Maybe a Hospital?”

“I can’t do that either. I have to get him under cover somewhere and then wait for the heat to die down before I can get to his Captain and get him out safe.” Frankie growled as he gazed back at Angel. Angel fidgeted a bit; he knew what they would have to do. Oh if only he hadn’t been out tonight! But then this man would be dead. Way to fuck up one’s karma. He nodded slowly as he made his decision.

“My place. I got the room.”

Frankie nodded as well and turned to drive the car away from 6th street.

o-O-o

Jim opened his eyes, wincing against the harsh light as it streamed in from the dirty windows. Glancing around, he sat carefully and took stock of his surroundings. It was obviously a warehouse converted into a very shabby living quarters. He noticed he was alone and wondered for a moment how he had gotten here and who it belonged to.

Before he could investigate, there was a scratching at the door off to his right and it swung open to reveal the whore from the night before. Or had it been only last night since he had run from Tank’s boys? The whore glanced up as he closed the door and caught Jim looking at him. “Oh, hey, you’re awake!”

Jim nodded once. “Yeah, just now… what are you doing here?”

The whore looked around before he set a ragged looking pack on the ground by the door, dropping a set of keys into a woven basket setting on a low table and taking off his jacket. “I live here, man. This is my place.”

Jim just looked at the young man as he went over to the tiny kitchen area and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer and popping the cap off the bottle. He looked so at home in the place that Jim couldn’t help but believe him. “How long have I been here?”

“’bout a week, took that long just to be sure that the heat was off you.”

Jim blinked. He had been asleep for a week. It was no wonder his bodily injuries had dampened down to a dull ache. The fact that he was still alive told him that he had escaped Tanks and his men, so that was a relief. “How do you know the heat is off me?”

The young man stepped away from the fridge and walked over to stand before the bed. He cocked his hips to the side as he explained with a single word, "Frankie."

Jim frowned, that wasn't an explanation. So he asked, "Frankie?"

The younger man flashed him a grin and said, "Yeah, Frankie. He was the guy I called to help me the night you fell on top of me. He helped me get you here and has been keeping his ear to the ground, making inquiries and stuff since you been here. He's got connections."

Jim dropped his eyes to the bedspread out across his lap. “And this Frankie… he’s not upset that you brought a stranger to your bed?”

The young man snorted, “It’s the only bed in the room, man. What, you think I was gonna leave you to sleep on the floor?”

“You could have left me on the street,” countered Jim. The other man looked at him with an expression of disbelief before turning away and dropping his empty bottle in the trash before entering the bathroom that lay hidden behind a door.

When he came back out, he was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He was also carrying a duffle bag in hand. This he tossed on the bed next to Jim. “Frankie found you some clothes. Hope they fit.”

Jim nodded and moved to leave the bed. The young hooker turned his back and gave him some semblance of privacy as he went to the bathroom to change into clothes. His clothes, he noticed the moment he opened the bag. This Frankie must have really good connections if he was able to get someone over to Jim’s loft apartment and pick up his emergency bag.

When he was finished, he came back into the main room to find the kid had folded the bed into a couch and was flicking channels on a small 13 inch TV across the way. The man looked up and nodded once. “Looks good, man. You only look like you got into a light bar fight now.”

Jim snorted as he plopped down beside the young man. After tying on his shoes, he settled against the sofa cushions. The hooker turned back to the TV and practically ignored him for another minute before muttering, “Frankie’s gonna come pick you up in a minute and give you a ride.”

“Good. I need to get back and find a new line of work. Tank’s not going to want me around now.” Jim growled. The other man laughed lightly, his voice musical to Jim’s ears.

“Man, I would not worry about Tank. I doubt he’s even looking for you anymore.” He stopped speaking when he heard the honk of a car horn. “There’s Frankie, you better get going.”

Jim stood and the hooker came with him as far as the door. Reaching out a hand, the hooker shook with Jim, a smile in his eyes. Jim smiled back, “You be careful out there, Chief. It can get rough on the streets.”

The hooker snorted. “Yeah, I can take care of myself, man. It’s you I would worry about.”

Jim shook his head, “You know you could be better than this. You don’t have to turn the tricks if you just got yourself back into school.”

The hooker held Jim’s hand tightly. “Let me give you a word of advice. Never judge a book by its cover, man… Out there, you saw a Working boy who was looking out for a few bucks here or there. Out there, I saw a thug who had gotten mangled in a turf war between rival gangs." He paused for a beat and then said, "But those were the glossy book covers, now you gotta think - what is actually on the inner pages?"

Jim's eyes narrowed with the last question, but then the car horn sounded again and he flinched. He stared into the sky blue eyes that were looking up at him, so warm and wise but not like the eyes of any other hooker he had ever seen before. Then without another word uttered he gave his young host a sharp nod and he walked out the door. He heard the locks and chains click behind him as he left.  



End file.
